The Death of Winter
by MiWilliams1016
Summary: After the reappearance of her long lost cousin, Melinda is placed under a protective watch. Now living in Manhattan, she must discover the reason why she is being hunted down. Struggling to uncover secrets that were taken to the grave, she finds comfort in a quiet man who hides behind his lab walls. *Updates Will Be Every Friday*
1. Chapter 1

The colors surrounded her entire body. The yellow that surrounded her almost matched her honeyed colored eyes. They soften her light ivory skin tone, bringing out the natural rose of her cheeks. Her hair was sprawled out above her hair, a medium brown with natural blonde highlights throughout the mane. Brown and black surrounded her framing the model like body.

Not once did she move, her chest never rose, her eyes never closed. Her lips stayed halfway open, a cry frozen on the pink skin. A grey tint started at her fingers tip and was slowly creeping up her forearms.

"No signs of struggle," Nick's voice broke her from the observations from the body, "Just like the others. Same look of horror and decaying around the body" Her mind flashed back to the two other victims. She only saw photos, a man with black hair and blue eyes. He was found under a dead bush two miles outside the city. That was two months ago before the leaves started to change. The next was a child, which hit close to home for the observer. It was a boy, the age of twelve, blonde hair, green eyes, short for his age. He was found face down in the lake, fish floating around him. His three-year-old sister had found him

Now she watched the body of her missing cousin lay unmoving before her. This was the first time she saw her since she was twelve. She looked just like her mother did. Now she would join the rest of her family in the ground, on the outskirts of town. Her brother would lie beside her and her mother in between daughter and husband.

"What's her real name?" He was standing beside her now. He wore all black. Never said anything that wasn't down to the point.

"Lucinda," She choked on the name. Clearing her throat she tried the name again, "Lucinda. Lucinda Frost." She started to think about her childhood years, the running through the forest behind Lucinda's house, carving trees with the LF and MS, running through the streams and singing under the trees.

"Her I.D. says Aliza Fringe," The name didn't mean anything to her, didn't create any images, nothing that would suggest her death.

In the distance she heard doors slamming and footsteps. She didn't move, not as people swerved around her. They placed the body in a black bag. Photographs were taken. She heard words but none of them registered. It wasn't until a hand was placed on her shoulder did she move. It was the dark skinned man that she followed her. She hovered over the eye patch for a moment but then she looked down before she met his eye.

"We are going to put you into a protection house." She stopped at his statement and looked at him directly. She glared him into an explanation. "Your whole family has been murdered, extended and immediate. There is something about your family that is of interest. Honestly, I am interested but there is more pressing matters."

"I can't just leave my life. I have responsibilities. I have a life to live." She didn't want to start over. She had finally created the life she wanted. She had finished paying off her student loans. She started a retirement fund; she got a job in researching bionics. She had an eye out of the guy who worked in the lab across the hall. She was happy with the small town house. The kitchen was finally updated, stainless steel appliances, granite counter tops, and light gray backsplash. It took her months to complete through work and caring for her rescue puppy.

"We can't put you back into the life you had. They've seemed to be getting closer. All the victims have ties with your family. " That she didn't know. She didn't know the two previous strangers. The photos didn't bring back any memories; they didn't have a sense of familiarity.

She didn't say anything in the car; she rested her head against the tinted window. A faded reflection looked backed at her. Her gray eyes didn't reflect correctly, in the window they appeared almost black while in the mirror they would shine back like stormy skies. Her blonde hair was pinned back in a tight bun. A few wisps had escaped and framed her heart shaped face. She decided not to frame her eyes with eyeliner like she would on her normal routine. When she got the call she still have a half-hour until her alarm would sing to her. She brushed on foundation and threw on the first thing out of her drawers.

It wasn't until the airport appeared in the window did she look at Nick. She followed him out of the car and through security before she finally spoke, "Where are we going?"

"Manhattan."

He didn't speak to her again until they were on the plane. She didn't ask questions, she didn't know this man. She doesn't know how he functions, how he reacts. "I have a team you'll be staying with. " She didn't ask to elaborate; she just looked at him and waited. He looked at her, "Don't talk much?"

"If I need to know, you will tell me."

"Only if Tony was like that."

"I am not Tony." She stated and watched as Washington fell into her past. She didn't know Tony, she didn't want to ask questions because she knew she wouldn't like the answer. She wanted to be in her town house, her cousin still a young runaway. She didn't want to know about Aliza, She didn't want to know Nick Fury, she wanted to fall back into her mattress and let the day become a bad dream. But the city came into view and she walked through customs. She walked behind the man in the trench coat, never looking up from his heels. He had been on a tablet for the flight, never speaking after their small conversation.

"We are here," she stopped at his voice and looked up. A man with light brown hair stood directly in front of her, behind him a building made of glass and steel blocked out the sun. She knew instantly who build this, the same man who created her lab back in Montana in 2008 after his return from Afghanistan. He created a program that took her back their for 6 months to help create prosthetics for children who had been injured in land mine accidents. In the short time that she was there she help five children walk again. As far as she knew the program was still going on but the demand had decreased significantly.

The man in front of her stepped forward and put is hand out towards her, "Clint Barton. Some call me Hawkeye." She took his hand; rough with callouses and scars, and shook it. "You must be Melinda." She tilted her head in approval and followed the man inside the building.

The building inside was more sleek and futuristic than the outside. A fountain stood in the middle of the lobby, a perfect reflection laid tilted on the marble floor. Bodies curved around it, suits, heels, skirts, ties. A reception desk was wrapped around the far curved wall, five people sat behind, two occupied with a conversation, one on the phone, and two others hammering their fingers against the keyboards. The one to the furthest left, a red head in her thirties looked up from her computer and motioned for Clint to meet her.

"Mr. Barton, is this Melinda Snow?" He nodded in approval and watched as the lady laid a Stark I.D. in front of her. She laid next to it a StarkTech smartphone, the screen came to life at her touch. "Welcome to Stark Industries. We are pleased to have you join our Bionic division; the paperwork is still being processed. Next Monday we will have you join the team."

She looked at the ginger, "What do you mean? I work at Bionics of Tomorrow. "

"Mr. Stark put in a request for you to join the Stark team. His request was approved approximately an hour ago." Melinda Spun on her heels and looked at the man standing behind her, his hands were buried in his trench coat. He raised his shoulders but didn't say anything.

Clint placed his hand on her shoulder, just grazing her skin, "Welcome to the Team."


	2. Chapter 2

It has been exactly twenty-four hours since Nick Fury, director of SHIELD stood on her doorstep. It was the first time he met her, picking her up from the porch, the street lights flicking off as the morning sun started to rise. The grass then was still wet from the late night shower, a few leaves and branches had scattered through the street.

Then she watched the clock change and the zero after eight am changed to one but the memory still hung fresh in her mind. She looked down from the clock, back to her coffee, two creams, one sugar. Just how her father liked it. She hated it, but it woke her up and it reminders her of the family she lost. The family that would wake up at seven thirty every morning and have breakfast on the table by eight. Her mother always made her oatmeal, two scoops of sugar and diced strawberries. Her brother Garrett would eat toast with peanut butter and bananas on it.

"Morning," She looked up from her coffee, it was now cold and she decided not to drink anymore.

"Oh, ugh, morning," she looked at the man walking to the sink. His shirt was wrinkled, a navy blue and dark gray work pants. She couldn't remember his name but she saw him yesterday in one of the labs, looks as if he hadn't changed.

"How did you sleep last night?" He asked reaching for a box from the cabinet. He had set a kettle on the stove.

"Oh, all right," Which was a lie. She didn't sleep at all. She had laid in her new bed thinking. She was the last standing of her family, being moved to a new state, surrounded by people she didn't know, forced into a new job. Her bed was uncomfortable, the sheets were too soft, the mattress hugged her body perfectly and she hated it. She liked how her sheets had smelled, like a day at the beach. The ones that she laid on top of last night smelt distant and unloved.

"You're lying," He pulled out the chair next to her and slid into it. "I can see the purple under your eyes. It's okay. You lost the last of your family and thrown into a situation you have no control over. I understand that." She remembered his name after a few minutes of silence. Bruce, she had remembered when she saw him first; his eyes were glazed over staring at a floating tablet. It wasn't until Clint cleared his throat did he notice their presences.

"Thank you Bruce, it'll take some time that's all," She dumped her cold drink just as he started to pour his hot water. He added a spoonful of sugar and a light amount of honey. He held next to his lips before taking a drink.

"Take all the time you need. No one is rushing you. " Placing the coffee next to him he reached behind her, grabbing the newspaper he grabbed the cup and went back to his chair. She left then, leaving him to his thoughts and the current news. On the way to her chambers she bumped into a red head, she was walking next to a tall blonde. They were both wearing uniforms; both skin tight, one black, one blue.

"Melinda," Steve spoke first, "How was your night?"

"It was manageable," she curved around the truth like she has done since her childhood. "Thank you." Before they could make out anything else she had started walking, she stopped in front of her room but decided to walk past it. She walked through the halls, letting her fingers glide under the smooth walls. She touched figurines and tables. If it was within in arms reach she had touched it, as if it would bring her a sense of security. But the items were too cold, they were unfamiliar to the ones that she had nesting in her town house. These were all mint condition, no sign of touch, no sign of movement.

It wasn't until she felt a small jolt in her fingertips did she look down. It was a box, small, no bigger than her fist. It was black, and she could see her face in it, it was cold, and it seemed like it was never touched. She placed both of her hands on the lid; since she got her she felt comfort. It seemed to purr under her touch, vibrating slightly. She felt around for a seam or a hinge, any indication to which way it opens but nothing was there. It was just a smooth black box.

"It's cold in here," she jumped at the voice. She had become so lost in the item she forgot where she was standing. There was frost slowly creeping on the glass table, and she realized she could see her breath. She turned and found Tony, he had his hands shoved into his pockets, he was shaking and his lips had a slight blue tint to them. She didn't even realize the temperature change; even now the cold didn't bother her. It seemed more like a welcoming hug. "Jarvis, What's the temperature in here?"

"Twenty degrees Fahrenheit, sir." The ceiling has responded with a British accent.

"Crank it up," he spouted never breaking eye contact with Melinda.

"What is this?" She motioned to the glass box, the frost around it had already begun melting, and small droplets of water littered the surface.

"It was my father's, I'm not sure what it is but he told me to keep it safe. I've used it as a decoration. You're the first one to notice it Marissa."

"It's Melinda," she corrected him, "does it open?"

"I don't know. Are you cold?" His lips had changed back to their natural pink hue. He had pulled his hands out of his pocket and folded them over his chest. He was wearing a blank gray shirt and a pair of worn jeans.

She went to answer him; he walked past never giving her a chance to answer. She glanced on last time at the box and followed him. As soon ash stepped out of the room she felt a sense of disconnection. She felt a need to walk back and pick up the box and hold it. To take the box into her room and feel it run on her finger tips. Watched as the lights reflect on the surface. But she followed Tony down the hall, he had said something and she didn't hear him. Instead of asking him to repeat she let him continue on with his conversation.

There wasn't anything eventful through the day. She had found Hawkeye on the roof, after struggling to climb up onto the glass he had grabbed her wrist and pulled her up. She felt comfortable around him, maybe it was because he was the person she met in the city. She had talked to him about the box, he sat and listen interjecting only at the end.

"Is there anything different about you? Or about your family?" She had to think about it, she would have said yes. She wanted to say it, to say she was normal, just a helping people on fake body part at a time. But there was a hesitation for some reason.

"I don't know," she finally answered. The wind had picked up; she clutched her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry."

She didn't look at him but she knew he was looking at her. She could feel his light blue eyes settling on her skin, she waited. She waited for the "why?" or the "what do you mean?" But it never came. He, unlike all the others, understood the confusion. She didn't know his back-story but she knew, somehow, he had felt the same way, asked the same questions.

"We are all broken here," he stood up pulling her into a standing position, "You'll fit in perfectly."

She didn't see him the rest of the night, but when she walked back to the hall to her room, once again she walked past. This time her fingers didn't hover over the wall; she didn't feel the paint under her fingertips. The lights were out; the wind was a whisper in the background. If they weren't in bed, she guessed, that her housemates were in their respective areas tinkering.

She knew that it wasn't there when she entered the room. She felt it missing. The spot where it had laid was empty, with nothing to suggest it sat there. She placed her finger on the table where it sat, recalling it. She didn't know how, but she knew where it was. And she followed that instinct, down the hall, down the stairs, past the glass doors and right in front of Tony.

"How'd you get in here?" He stopped, feeling as if he was being watched. It sat in front of him. It was reflecting his tired face, bags slept under his face and his facial hair was calling for trimming.

When she reached for it he pulled it away from her. She moved quicker next time, letting the cool material rest in the palm of her hand. It took only a few minutes before the frost started to form on the glass and steel around them. Tony folded his arms across his chest and looked around.

He looked at her and the box, "Who are you?"

"I am broken."


End file.
